


Kinktober 27

by wingedcatninja



Series: Kinktober 2019 [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hair Pulling, Kinktober 2019, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Unprotected Sex, accidental injury, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: Their experimentation is interrupted when some accidental breakage occurs while doing inventory.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Morgan Chase (OC)
Series: Kinktober 2019 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1495709
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Kinktober 27

**Author's Note:**

> This would have been day 27 of Kinktober with prompt Sex Pollen. It's my first time writing this type of story. I apologize for nothing.

Getting back to the bunker, they found out that Sam had spent the majority of the past week taking inventory of a couple of storerooms recently discovered. It had helped keep his mind off of what had happened in Harlan. Not that he said that, but it was obvious. While Dean would have poked fun at his brother’s nerdiness, she convinced him that it would be better just to help out. Thus, Dean found himself in a dusty storeroom, picking through boxes and attempting to decipher illegible labels. 

“How many times do I have to say this? I don’t read hieroglyphics,” Dean grumbled in her general direction.

“What?” The muffled question came from behind a shelf stuffed full of more boxes.

Dean walked around the shelf, holding the current offending object, an ornate bottle that might be red under all the dust.

“I said-” Dean started to repeat himself, startling her. She spun toward him, her hand knocking the bottle out of his loose grip. As if in slow motion, both of them watched the bottle fall and shatter on the concrete floor, red glass shards mixing with a fine white powder. The dust quickly filled the air between them - unnaturally quickly. Finally reacting, Dean pushed her backward before backing away from the cloud of dust himself. Fanning the air in front of herself, she sneezed hard and sniffled. 

“Dean, I think it’s too late. That stuff is everywhere, chances are we’ve already inhaled it,” she said, her voice muffled behind her hand. “What is that stuff anyway?”

“How should I know?” Dean was visibly annoyed. “All this stuff is labeled in dead languages and chicken scratches.”

“Ok, ok, calm down,” she told him, her eyes scanning the shards for any sign of a label.

While she meant to look for answers, her eyes seemed to stray to Dean all on their own. Her gaze was drawn to his lips, thoughts of kissing him overwhelming her mind. Before she realized what was happening, she had pushed his back against the wall and her lips were crushed to his.

Dean’s hands fell to her waist, gripping tightly enough to leave bruises even through her jeans. He pulled her against him, grinding his already hard bulge against her. He broke away from her lips only to taste the rest of her. His mouth seemed to be everywhere - her jaw, her neck, her ear - as if he wanted to devour her. 

She leaned her head back and moaned low, her hands tearing at his clothes, needing to feel his skin against hers right now or she would...well, she had no idea, but something bad would happen. Nothing mattered but Dean, feeling him, all of him, against her naked body. Feeling him inside her.

For long moments their limbs tangled together in a frantic struggle to divest each other of the offending clothing. Finally, they were able to feel all of each other, torn fabric littering the floor. Dean had her pressed against the wall now, her legs wrapped around him, his arms holding her up while he slid his cock through her dripping folds. There were no words, only inarticulate growls and a need that burned inside both of them.

Getting frustrated, Dean pulled away and pushed her to the floor, pouncing on top of her. The glass shards cut their skin, unnoticed. All that mattered was feeding the burning desire. He pushed into her from behind in a single thrust, drawing a cry of mixed pain and pleasure from her. Dean, who was usually a gentle and considerate lover, pounded into her like a jackhammer, one hand tangled in her hair and pulling her head back. His lips locked on her neck, sucking hard, biting down on her flesh. His growl vibrated through her body, pushing her higher. 

Dean’s grunts mingled with her whimpers of pure need. His fingers found her nipples and pinched hard, drawing another cry from her lips. As if the sound of her distress spurred him on, he thrust harder, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. His free hand fell to her hip and he gripped her bruisingly while he chased his release. 

Her hand slipped between her legs, rubbing her clit, needing to reach her peak. With a wordless shout, she shuddered beneath him, her pussy clenching on his cock, milking it rhythmically inside her. Dean grunted, but something prevented him from reaching his own release. He just kept going, pounding into her while her arms gave out. When she slid onto her belly, his body followed her, keeping up the merciless thrusts, pushing her over the edge again.

She whimpered beneath him, her body quivering with pleasure yet still craving more. Neither of them heard the door open, or Castiel’s voice when he chanted a spell to break the curse that had taken hold on them. They collapsed in a tangle of naked limbs, Dean still inside her. 

“Ow.” The sound was muffled beneath Dean’s bulk. “Get off me!”

Dean scrambled back, grabbing a stray file folder to hold in front of his still hard erection. He glared at the angel.

“What the hell, man?!” Dean managed to pack a whole world of meaning into those four words. 

“You were taken over by a curse. I’m not sure what exactly, but the spell I used is ancient Enochian, and breaks any minor curse,” Castiel explained.

“Yeah, that’s great, Cass, thank you. Now could you please leave? We’re a little naked here,” she said over her shoulder, still face down on the floor to hide her nudity from the angel.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Castiel abruptly turned around and disappeared, only to reappear a second later to close the door behind himself.

With a groan, she dropped her forehead to the concrete floor. 

“I hate magic,” she muttered.

Dean grunted his agreement. Looking down his body, he noticed the cuts on his legs, from his knees to his feet. Moving awkwardly, he helped her get away from the shattered glass, and the cursed contents, and to her feet. She sighed deeply at the state of her body.

“Think he’s still here? We could use some healing,” she pointed out.

“Let’s get some clothes on, and I’ll go find him, ok?” Dean helped her sit down on one of the sturdier boxes while he collected the torn clothes from the floor. “Looks like these are a write-off,” he commented.

Pulling on the jeans anyway, she had to leave them unbuttoned. Dean went topless to let her use what was left of his flannel to cover herself. Boots in hand, they shuffled down the hallway to their room, supporting each other. Dean helped her take a seat on the bed, then turned to go find the angel. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her pointedly.

“Sam can do his own inventory from now on.”

She chuckled weakly and nodded her agreement.


End file.
